


Little Mistakes

by TheViolentBlue



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV), The Umbrella Academy (TV) RPF
Genre: Gen, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Whump, LGBTQ Themes, Number Five | The Boy Deserves Better, Pansexual Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Number Five | The Boy, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Takes place after season 1 but before season 2, They all deserve better, Time Travel, no beta we die like ben, read the notes, so basically its a season 2 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28331391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheViolentBlue/pseuds/TheViolentBlue
Summary: "We fucked up the timeline. Bad this time," Five says, rummaging through Klaus's kitchen. "You're the only one who has even the slightest clue who I am."OrFive’s calculations were wrong. They were very, very wrong
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 38
Kudos: 205





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> HI. THIS IS GONNA BE SUPER CONFUSING FOR THE FIRST FEW CHAPTERS BUT IVE BEEN WORKING ON IT FOR A REALLY LONG TIME SO PLEASE TRY TO STICK AROUND MAYBE. IF YOU WANT. PLEASE. I PROMISE ITLL MAKE MORE SENSE AS IT GOES ALONG. THIS IS JUST THE SHITTY PROLOGUE. YEAH. -Riordan

Diego sighs, stuffing the last of his belongings into a bag he'd stolen from his father's room while he was out a day prior. The air feels colder and thicker tonight. It makes him shiver uncomfortably. 

He zips the bag shut, sighing to himself. His eyes shift to the urn sitting on his windowsill. She'd be proud of him for leaving wouldn't she? She'd do the same if she was in his position. Wouldn't she? 

Diego takes the vase-shaped container in his own hands, fingers brushing over the gold-rimmed lid. "I'm sorry I can't take you with me, mama," He whispers. "Klaus needs someone to watch over him. You can do that for me, right?" He asks. He nods to himself, "Of course you can." 

Diego cradles the urn in one arm, grabbing the bag from his bed and slinging the strap over the shoulder of the other. He takes one last look at his room, shaking his head before exiting and making his way down the hall. 

Klaus's door had been left open a crack, as it had been any other night. Diego never understood Klaus's reasoning for this, but was greatful for it tonight. The less noise, the better. 

He steps into the room as quietly as possible, staring at the boy on the bed as he observes the harsh breaths and the way his chest quickly rises and falls. Klaus had never been a peaceful sleeper. He had always been haunted by nightmares. 

He makes his way further into the room and sets the urn down on the nightstand beside Klaus's bed. Klaus lets out a sharp breath and stirs, eyes slowly opening to meet Diego's. 

"Dee?" He asks through grogginess, eyeing the suitcase in his brother's hand. "Where are you going?"

Diego swallows thickly, a twinge of guilt twisting in his gut as he stares back at his brother. His green eyes almost remind him of their mother’s. Diego smiles softly. 

"I'll be back," He says, quietly. He nods at the urn beside Klaus's bed. "Take care of her for me, yeah?"

Klaus swings his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up. Terror fills his eyes. "Y-You can't leave me here, Diego," He says, jumping up. "I have to come with you!"

"I'll be back, Klaus," Diego states, pausing to look back at him from the doorway. "I promise." 

"But t-the scary people! Diego!" Klaus calls through tears, but it's too late. The door is pulled fully closed and Diego is gone. But he'd be back. 

He promised he'd be back.


	2. Give ‘Em Hell, Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: Diego never came back for Klaus
> 
> Well... At least not until it was far too late to make any changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi low.

17 years had passed since Diego up and left the Hargreeves' mansion and Klaus had only seen him twice in that time. Not that it counted for much of anything, considering they didn't have much of an interaction on either occasion. That was one of the many things that furthered Klaus' bitterness towards his brother. 

The first time he had seen Diego was when he came by a month later to grab the very last of his things. He had looked happier. Healthier too. He told Klaus and Reginald that he'd found an apartment about a half hour away from them. Klaus wasn't allowed to speak. Maybe that had been for the better. 

The second time was about three years after that and he didn't even come inside. He only stood at the doorway for a few moments, talking to their father. From what Klaus had seen from the window, the conversation didn't look like a very happy one. He'd figured maybe he'd been begging for money, or maybe even grown a set of balls big enough to confront their father for putting him through so much at such a young age. He'd never truly know. Reginald never spoke of the conversation. 

As for today, Klaus stands by a casket in a small church just around the corner from the mansion. His head is slightly bowed. Every once in a while he'd take a moment to glance around the room and nervously smooth down his black skirt, doing his best to ignore the stares and whispers from his father's mystery friends. 

God, he hates churches. For good reason too. Klaus is a medium. Well, at least that's what the books say. Everywhere he goes he sees dead people. They scream his name and plead for help that Klaus simply doesn't know how to provide. When Klaus doesn't do as they please, then come the insults and the death threats. Some even go as far as to try and grab at him with their disgusting, bloody fingers. There were always so many of them in churches. Always loud. Always angry. 

"I see your style hasn't changed much." A painfully familiar voice says. Klaus looks up quickly, eyes locking with his brother's. 

"Diego?" He says. Diego smiles softly, stepping closer to Klaus and pulling him into an embrace. "I-

"Long time, no see, brother." 

Klaus frowns, 'you don't say?' threatening to fall from his lips. But just like so many other times in his life, Klaus keeps it to himself and instead allows his hesitant arms to wrap loosely around his brother. "Yeah, I... I know." 

There was no reason for Klaus to be this shocked to see Diego. I mean, it was there father's funeral, after all. What kind of son wouldn't attend his father's funeral? He just couldn't seem to wrap his head around the fact that he'd seemed so calm and normal interacting with Klaus. Had he forgotten that the person he's hugging is the same person he abandoned as children? 

After a moment, Diego pulls away, eyes locking on his brother's. He clears his throat. "So, how have things been?"

Klaus' eyes detach themselves from Diego's and wonder down to the floor beneath his boots. He almost laughst. The question almost makes him want to vomit. It feels like a slap in the face. It stings. 

If you had been there, Diego, you'd know. 

"Well," Klaus begins, softly. "Dad's dead, so, things could be better, I guess."

Ah, yes, the understatement of the year. Things could be better. Though, what else was he supposed to say that Diego would understand? His brother had only stayed through the thunderstorm. He missed the hurricane. 

"Yeah," Diego sobers, "That's quite a bummer."

Klaus hums an agreed response, hands clasped over his front. His stomach twists and feels like screaming. Maybe out of sudden panic or maybe out of sheer desperation. There are so many things that desperately need to be said and so little time to say them. It's frustrating. His eyes wander back up to meet Diego's. 

Diego clears his throat, "We should get lunch sometime. Have some bro time. Catch each other up on some things, yeah?"

Klaus stares at him blankly for a moment, picking at the skin on his fingers mindlessly. He nods almost frantically, attempting to make up for his lack of words. Diego gives a small smile, pulling his brother into one last hug. 

"I'll give you a ring sometime soon then." He says as he pulls away. Klaus' downcast gaze is enough to prove to Diego that he'd been uncomfortable. He gives him a pat on the shoulder and a quick nod before stepping forward and continue on to the other side of the middle row of pews. 

"I- I'm not staying for the service," Klaus blurts before Diego can get too far. Diego turns back around to face his brother. "If you wanted to go now or something." 

Diego's expression morphs into an almost frown. For a second it makes Klaus nervous. Maybe that wasn't the right thing to say. Just as he opens his mouth to stutter out some kind of poorly formed sentence in a lame attempt to back track the previous, Diego's face softens. He gives Klaus a small grin. 

"Do you have a car or are we both taking mine?"


	3. To The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus lets the cat out of the bag. Lunch never gets eaten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. TW for referenced suicide and abuse. I love you guys. Stay safe. :) <3

When Klaus and Diego were younger, on Saturday evenings they'd wait for their father to head out to one of his big, important, super-secret, business meetings. When they were sure he was gone, they’d sneak out through the fire escape and make their way to the donut shop around the block called Griddy's Doughnuts. At that time, their mother had been bedridden and ill, so getting past her was much easier than one may think. Knowing her, she probably wouldn’t try to put a stop to them anyway. 

Maybe that was careless of them as children, but it’s one of the very few memories that eases Klaus' hatred of his childhood. He'd give anything to be able to curl up in the warmth of it and stay there forever. If only the trauma would allow it. That being said, it should come as no surprise that this is the place Diego and Klaus had gone for lunch. 

"So," Diego says, eyeing his brother. "You wanna tell me why you didn't stay for the service?" 

_Once again, Diego, if you had stayed you would know._

____

____

Klaus shrugs. "I just couldn't listen to everyone speak so highly of him." 

Diego frowns at that, tensing and leaning a bit closer to Klaus across the table. "What do you mean?" 

Klaus holds back a scoff and lets out a heavy breath. "After everything that happened..."

"After what happened?" Diego questions. 

Klaus feels his eyes widen. “Do you not remember? Dad was, well... he hurt us.”

Diego’s frown deepens. “Us? He hurt me. He never laid a hand on you while I was th-

“Yeah, well, you left and mom was dead,” Klaus says, voice raised slightly louder than he had meant it to be. It seems a little early to be letting the cat out of the bag, but he can’t really redirect the conversation this far into it. “I was the only one in the house with him. I mean, c’mon, Dee, there’s no way you really believed you were the root of all that man’s problems.” 

Diego swallows thickly, eyes widened in poorly contained shock. He clears his throat and forces himself to blink, tearing his eyes from Klaus and looking down at the table. If he expected his absence to result in anything, it wasn’t this. Diego left to make the situation better, not worse. “Ho-How bad wa-was it?”

Klaus sniffs and smooths the ruffles in his skirt with the heels of his hands. His leg bounces anxiously under the table. “It was okay for the first few months. In fact, I was almost happy you left. He was still very strict, but there was a lot less screaming. I kind of thought we were starting to develop a decent father-son relationship,” Klaus explains with a wavering voice. “Then one night over dinner, I told him about the ghosts and the dreams about having other siblings. He freaked out on me. Called me a liar. Told me that if I said anything regarding ‘special abilities’ in the house again he’d lock me in the basement.

Weeks passed and I guess since I didn’t up and leave like you, he figured he could continue to be mean or whatever and get away with it.” Klaus says. “So the drinking got heavier again. Then everything went downhill from there. After a while, all of our schooling sessions became him yelling and breaking things. Nights got violent and loud. Meals got smaller. Everything just got worse and worse until the day came that he stole my sleeping pills and... well, today was the result of that.”

“He killed himself?” Diego asks softly, eyes wide. 

Klaus nods, and runs the back of his hand under his nose. The coffee in his stomach felt like lead, making him nauseous, and suddenly the donut on the table in front of him didn’t seem very appetizing. When Diego said they’d be ‘catching up on things’, this isn’t what Klaus invisioned. At least, not this early into the conversation, anyway. 

It felt good to tell him though. Klaus has been carrying this around for years and hasn’t said a single word to anyone on the block about it. Not that any of it was very hard to miss. Reginald would lock him out in the cold and scream taunts at him through the door some nights. Living in a city as busy as theirs, there’s no way in Hell people didn’t hear. Not to mention he’d show up to the diner with a new scrape or bruise on his face once a week. That had to be pretty hard to miss too. 

“I thought they said he had a heart attack.” Diego says with a blank expression. 

“He said in his note that that’s what he wanted to be said in the obituary,” Klaus explains. “He told me to offer big bucks if they said no, which I did. I guess the idea of the big bad Reginald Hargreeves committing suicide was one that made him ashamed.”

“It clearly didn’t stop him from following through with it though, did it?” Diego says through a sigh. 

“Nope.” Klaus responds awkwardly, fighting the urge to put his head down on the table.

Diego pauses, jaw tightening slightly as he stares at his brother. After everything that happened, after all the pain he was put through, Klaus still did as he was told and fulfilled their father’s last request. This was the final opportunity he had to get any kind of revenge, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It made Diego feel sick. The whole thing did. 

“Why would you lie for him?” Diego asks after a moment. 

“I’m sorry?” Kaus responds, meeting his brother’s gaze. 

“He hurt you... Repeatedly.... and yet, you do as you’re told all the way up to the end and respect his final wishes. Just like the servant he raised you to be,” Diego says. “Why?”

Klaus swallows hard, swirling his spoon around a few times in his coffee mug for distraction. “I didn’t think being spiteful was necessary. I think the way he felt was revenge enough.” 

“But the money you gave away to cover up his tracks could have been your’s. You could have taken that for yourself and put it into building a new life for yourself,” Diego says. “You’re spoiling him and he doesn’t deserve it. He hurt you. He was abusive.”

“He was unhappy.” Klaus argues. 

“Unhappy and _abusive _.”__

__“No! He was _unhappy _!” Klaus repeats “He failed in doing the one thing he believed he was on this earth to do. He wanted to be the savior of the universe with this big famous family and all he got was two kids he didn’t want, a dead wife, and ten tons of stupid, dirty money. He was unhappy, Diego, and maybe he deserved it. But now is just as much his time to rest as is it mine. I’m not going to take that away from either of us by giving him a reason to haunt me out of spite! I have enough to deal with with the other ghosts following me around and the apocalypse dreams with whoever the fuck Number Five is. I don’t need my abusive dead father following me around too!”___ _

____Diego frowns, taken aback and slightly confused. He blinks a few times and lets the silence linger for a short moment before speaking again. “You still see things like that?”_ _ _ _

____Klaus sighs, shakily, clenching his eyes shut to rebel against the building tears. He should have kept his mouth shut. Diego would never understand. He raises his coffee cup to his lips and takes a sip of it. He feels disgusted in his words. Diego was right. Reginald didn’t deserve his help. Reginald did hurt him. Reginald was abusive. But Klaus meant what he said. Seeing his face every day while he was alive was torture enough. Seeing him in death would probably throw him over the edge._ _ _ _

____“I wanna go home, please.” He says softly._ _ _ _

____Diego’s expressions softens, looking at Klaus’s donut on the table. “But you didn’t even touch your food.”_ _ _ _

____“I feel sick,” Klaus says, rubbing his eyes. “Just... take me home. Please.”_ _ _ _

____Diego sighs and gives a small nod, not bothering to wipe the expression of sympathy from his face. Klaus deserved so much better. Things would have been different if he stayed. He felt bad, but didn’t regret leaving. He needed to escape. He just wishes the result of him leaving wasn’t what it turned out to be._ _ _ _

____Diego leaves a small tip on the table for the waitor and pays the lady at the counter. He and Klaus then head to the car, leaving both of their donuts behind and untouched._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I kinda hate this and I’m really bad at endings so get used to that lol. I hope you’re enjoying. All feedback is greatly appreciated. its 5AM. Im gonna sleep now. Gn.


	4. I’m Not Okay (I promise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks and ghosts, Klaus’s specialty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing is shit, I am aware. But pay attention to little details. Notice how I replaced things. Remember that Klaus is living an entirely different life than the first time around. Reginald failed at getting 7 kids. He only got Klaus and Diego. That wasn’t very much of a team so he gave up on trying to build The Umbrella Academy. That’s why he spiraled into the person he was.

Aside from the hum of the car engine and the occasional sound from Diego’s numerous police radios, the ride back to the mansion is silent. Which is something Klaus can’t help but feel greatful for. He’s shaky and nauseous and he’s pretty sure that if Diego says another word to him about anything that came up in the donut shop he’d end up blowing chunks all over his brother’s dashboard.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come stay with me for a while?” Diego asks gently as he pulls up to the mansion.

“I'm sure,” Klaus responds, unbuckling his seatbelt with shaky fingers. “Thank you for the coffee, Dee. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course,” Diego sighs. Klaus can’t help but notice how tightly he’s gripping the steering wheel. There’s a pained anger in his eyes and it makes Klaus feel guilty. Maybe everything should have stayed behind closed doors. Sure, it didn’t feel nice for him to be the only one with knowledge of the situation, but was upsetting the only family member he has left really worth the relief?

“You’re not alone anymore, y’know. I’m only a phone call away,” Diego says. “I can be here in a heartbeat if you need anything.”

Klaus swallows, staring down at his lap. He hums an acknowledgment and nods. His words feel stuck in his throat and his mouth feels like it’s been glued shut. “I mean it,” Diego adds on. “You call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”

He nods again, glancing over at his brother. “I- I will. I promise.”

Klaus gets out of the car and flashes Diego a forced smile before heading into the house. The silence that he’s hit with when he closes the front door is almost more deafening than the screams of the loudest ghosts he’d ever encountered. He’s not used to this, a quiet house. The last time he wasn’t greeted by his father’s scolds was when he was 15 and Reginald’s manipulative ass was so worried he’d leave like Diego that he’d let him go to the diner once a week. Klaus isn’t sure if this new quiet is comforting or if he hates it.

One thing’s for sure, Reginald is definitely dead. And Klaus can’t sense his spirit anywhere in the house. Which is surprising, to say the least. He was sure his father would be begging for help with the others by now. But maybe he moved on on his own.

That’s relieving.

Klaus lets his shaky hands slap down at his sides. He makes his way through the house, heading to the living room. From down the hall, he can see colors flashing on the far wall, above the portrait of the old man himself. He must have forgot to turn the TV off before he left. It’s funny how a mistake like that would have resulted in a screaming match less than a week ago and now all Klaus gets is silence.

The floorboards creak under his feet as he makes his way over to the yellowed and stained couch. For someone who would always brag to his colleagues about how well kept his house was, Reginald sure did know how to turn some white things yellow with cigarette smoke. As Klaus sits down, he glances at the bar and sighs. There’s still two open liquor bottles sitting on the counter alongside a knocked over, empty bottle of pills.

The night before Klaus found Reginald, he had drunkenly apologized. It was something that he’d done countless times before, so Klaus didn’t think too much of it. He just faked acceptance and went on about his night. Maybe if he spoke to the man for just a moment longer... But was he really deserving of that? Is he even truly deserving of Klaus’s grief? The man treated Klaus terribly, motives aside. So why did Klaus feel so tense? Why were his hands shaking so hard in his lap? Why were tears falling from his eyes?

_“You’re gonna be on your own one day, you know? I’m not going to be here forever."_

Klaus lets out a shaky breath, closing his eyes and squeezing his hands together.

_“You may have been the worst decision I ever made. I’d be the most famous man in the world right now if it wasn’t for you.”_

_"It wasn’t your fault? He said goodbye to you, did he not? You watched him leave! You let him leave! His absence is entirely your fault!"_

Klaus wants to relax. He wants to stop shaking. He wants to sink into the couch and drift off to sleep. He hasn’t slept in over 24 hours and he’s so tired. But Reginald’s screaming in his head is so loud and sharp. And a woman with blood rhythmically dripping from a slit in her neck won’t stop staring at him from the doorway, her mouth slightly agape and bottom lip trembling, as if any second she’d start screaming. Klaus closes his eyes, trying to escape her gaze, but all he finds in doing so is the memory of his mother’s urn smashing from his nightstand to the floor, his father screaming at him as it fell.

“Klaus,” The woman in the doorway rasps. He squeezes his eyes closed tighter. “They said you could help me.”

Klaus doesn’t say anything. He presses his palms against his ears in an attempt to block her and everything else out. It feels like it’s still happening. It feels so real. He swears he can still smell the alcohol on his breath. He can feel the saliva flying from his mouth as he screams.

He can’t breathe.

This hurts so much.

It all hurts so much.

Why couldn’t he just be a normal kid who went to a normal school? Why is he followed by faces you’d see in horror movies? Maybe he deserves this. Maybe he did something wrong in a past life and this was his punishment. Maybe he was bad as a baby. That would explain why Reginald was so mean.

“So, can you help me?” The lady asks again, eyes wide. “Can you? Klaus! Help me, damn it!”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how.” Klaus whispers

“Bullshit!” The ghost screams. Klaus flinches. He can still feel the bottles smashing over his head. He can still hear the splintering of the doors as they’re being kicked in. He can still smell the smoke in the air from his cigarettes.

“You know how to fucking help me! You have to!” She yells. “They all said you can!”

_“Well, maybe if you had tried a little harder to get him to stay, you would have been successful, boy!”_

_Boy_ _._

It was never 'Klaus'. He never had a name. He was always just 'Boy'.

“I- I’m sorry.” Klaus stutters out. The woman starts screeching, eyes wide and crazed. The blood starts to pour from the gash in her throat, forming a puddle beneath her feet that would be visible to nobody other than Klaus.

He feels himself slide from the couch to the floor, chest tight and breaths coming quickly and uncontrolled. There’s a knock on the door, but his brain just barely registers it, drowning it out with the sound of heavy doors slamming shut and ghosts screaming and...

_"three more hours!”_

Three more hours?

_"_ _This childish behavior is pathetic and unacceptable, Number Four!"_

Number Four?

_"You are my greatest disappointment, Number Four!"_

_"_ _I will not have you behaving like a girl in this household, boy!"_

_"You are wasting your potential!"_

_"You were never just kids._ _"_

....

Diego hesitates before forcing himself to knock on the front door of the mansion, Klaus’s jacket slung over his opposite arm. He’d managed to get a total of three miles down the road before noticing Klaus had left it sitting in the passenger seat. It’s safe to say his observation skills were never the best. No wonder he flunked out of the police academy.

It was intimidating facing this building again. He spent almost 13 years avoiding doing as much as driving down this street so he didn’t have to pass by it. Now he was willingly standing on it’s front step, tapping his knuckles against it’s heavy door. At least there wasn’t a Reginald behind it to slap him this time.

Diego stands there for about five minutes waiting, but Klaus never comes to the door. He figures maybe he just went to sleep. It has been a long and not extremely joyous day, after all. Klaus needs the rest.

But something feels off. As kids, Klaus would have panic attacks quite often. Diego was sure it the constant screaming was to blame for that. That and the hallucinations he always described. It was always hard for Klaus to go through it on his own. Diego would always find himself comforting him though the worst of his attacks. Something about Klaus being alone now, after dad’s funeral and the conversation they had at Griddy’s, doesn’t sit right with him.

Diego gives it a few more minutes before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a bobby-pin, and jamming it into the keyhole. He always keeps one on him in case he got into a situation like this. Being a borderline vigilante comes in handy sometimes.

Taking the first step into the house was something that Diego thought would be the hardest thing he’d have to do in years. But when he hears apologies being stuttered from the living room down the hall, that first step becomes a lot easier. He closes the door behind himself as softly as he can and forces himself to walk further into the house.

“Klaus?” He calls, glancing around at the walls. Klaus wasn’t lying when he said the old man spiraled. This is far worse than the house he remembers growing up in. The wallpaper is peeling, exposing the yellowed drywall underneath. The tiles of the floor are cracked and lifted. The stairs are dry rotted, and the whole house smells like must.

Diego walks down the hallway slowly, taking note of the scattered beer bottle caps on the floor and cracks in the windows. When he gets to the doorway of the living room, he freezes and frowns. Klaus is sitting on the floor with his hands over his ears and knees pulled up to his chest.

"You left your jacket in my car," Diego says, slowly approaching his brother. "I figured you’d want it back."

Klaus just shivers, feeling more tears slip from his eyes. He couldn’t get Reginald’s voice to stop echoing through his skull. Diego sits next to him, pressing his back against the couch. "Talk to me, bro."

But Klaus can’t. Diego puts a delicate hand on his shoulder, letting out a sigh. He hasn’t seen Klaus in this bad of a state since the month before he moved out of the Hargreeves' house. Diego had so much hope that he’d be getting better now. He had no intention of this happening.

"I remember when you used to have these attacks as a kid," Diego says softly, "Sometimes you’d let me hug you, which seemed to help. Other times if I even tried to get close to you, you’d start screaming," He tells him. "Usually if I could get close enough to put a hand on your shoulder, you’d be okay with a hug."

He swallows thickly, forcing himself to look at his brother. It breaks his heart. He lets out a breath, slowly pulling Klaus into his embrace. He gasps, but thankfully sinks into the contact, burying his face in his brother’s shoulder. The woman stopped screaming minutes ago. Now she’s walking in circles in the middle of the room and muttering under her breath. She pauses to stare at Klaus every few minutes. Klaus feels sick and exhausted and terrified.

Diego holds tight to his brother for a while until he feels his breathing start to slow. Klaus dozes off to sleep, head still on Diego’s shoulder, soon after the panic attack ends. Diego sighs, lifting Klaus onto the couch and tossing his jacket over him to serve as a blanket. As said previously, he hasn’t been in this house in a long time. He doesn’t think it’s his place to go digging through things looking for a blanket. It isn’t very cold, anyway. The jacket should be enough until Klaus wakes up.

Diego plops himself down in a recliner in front of the TV. He stares at the screen and starts to think. Just how many times has Klaus had to go through things like this on his own? If Diego was certain of anything, it’s that he’d never be alone again. No matter what he had to do, Klaus was going to get better. And Diego would be there through every step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really shitty and im frustrated with myself but im really trying to get to the main plot of this story. AKSKKDMFMKRKMRK >:( 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading. Shitty wording aside, i hope you’re enjoying. :) 
> 
> -Riordan


	5. The ghost of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes. Dysfunctional siblings. 
> 
> Also, a surprise guest at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya again. I might change the titles of the chapters soon. I think I wanna make them song lyrics but I don’t know what song yet. Yee. 
> 
> Anywhom, I hope you enjoy this chapter or whatever.

The next morning, Klaus wakes up cold and confused on the living room couch. The TV is still on and flashing but muted and Diego’s shoes are sitting beside the recliner Reginald always sat in. He must have stayed the night after Klaus fell asleep.

He sighs, swinging his legs over the side of the couch and standing up. He looks over towards the bar. Bloody-necked ghost lady is gone now, thank God. His eyelids feel heavy, most likely from the unnecessary amount of crying he’d done the night before. He lets out a sigh, heading towards the kitchen.

The first thing he sees when he steps through the doorway is dirty dishes piled up in the sink. Cleaning seemed like a lot of effort, but maybe it’d serve as a good distraction. Plus, if Diego comes out here and sees Klaus doing something productive, maybe it would be enough to dull his concern.

He turns the warm water on and lets it run over the dishes for a moment, filling the sink up about halfway. The sound of the silverware shifting under the rest of the plates and dishes makes him think of the similar sound of forks, knives, and plates clattering to the floor as Reginald flipped the kitchen table in his fits of rage. Klaus cringes, screwing his eyes shut and trying to force himself to focus on the present and the current, unshattered, dirty dishes in the current sink that he’s currently standing in front of because that’s what’s in need of attention right now. Not the past.

Klaus takes a deep breath, plucking a plate from the sink. The dishes in the sink shift again, forks falling to the bottom with a clink, and he’s forced to squeeze his eyes shut, plate almost slipping from his fingers.

" _Pathetic_." Reginald’s voice booms through his skull.

"Fuck." Klaus whispers to himself in frustration. He sets the plate down on the counter and leans over the sink. Even washing a damn plate serves as a challenge. Maybe the old man was right. This is pretty damn pathetic. He lets out a breath and picks the plate on the counter back up with a shaky hand. His free hand goes for the sponge thats sitting beside the faucet and begins to scrub the rougher green side against a spot on the plate that looks like it could have been ketchup that was had with—maybe—eggs.

Klaus hears the bathroom door open and close down the hall, followed by footsteps heading in his direction. When the footsteps stop, he can feel Diego’s eyes staring at him from behind. Diego clears his throat, leaning back against the wall.

"Good morning, Dee," Klaus says, too focused on trying to scrub the possibly-ketchup from the plate to turn around and face him.

"'Morning," Diego replies with a sigh. "How’re you feeling?"

Klaus swallows and runs the plate under the warm water, grimacing as flakes of food fall off and run over his hand. "I’m okay. How ‘bout you?"

"I’m okay too," Diego says. He pauses for a breif moment before speaking again. "I- I think you should come and stay with me for a while." Diego speaks slowly.

Klaus frowns, setting the plate in the left side of the sink to dry. He picks up a bowl, flinching as the dishes shift again. "For what purpose exactly?"

"After what happened last night, I don’t think you’re safe here alone with yourself." Diego explains, hesitantly.

Klaus snorts, slightly tightening his grip on the sponge, soap suds peaking out from between his fingers. “And I was safer here alone with dad when I was 15 years old?”

“I-... That’s not fair.” Diego says, voice calm. Klaus rolls his eyes, hands pausing for half a second before continuing to scrub at the bowl in his hand.

“I have better things to do, Diego.” He mumbles.

Diego rolls his eyes and snorts, arms crossed over his chest. “C’mon, man, I’m pretty sure you can write your stupid Umbrella Academy, false-reality, dream journals from the saftey of the couch in my apartment.”

Klaus tenses, breath hitching in his throat. He drops the sponge in the sink and places the bowl on the counter, not seeming to mind the water beginning to drip down the sides and pool under it’s base. He turns to face Diego, eyes wide and almost panicked. In a shaky voice he asks, “How did you know about that?”

Diego raises an eyebrow, holding a notepad out towards his brother. “You left it out on the table,” he says. “After everything that’s happened recently I was just checking to see if there were any suicide notes in there. You’d do the same if you’d just put me to bed after an emotional bre-

“It was a panic attack. Not a breakdown. Breakdowns are much different from that. And that journal is my personal property.” Klaus says sternly with a frown.

Over the years, Klaus’s dreams and (what he liked to call) visions started to become more and more vivid. He’d spent a lot of time trying to push them to the back of his mind and think about other more important things, but after a while it became really hard to ignore them. The more detailed they got, the more he was forced to pay attention. Soon he started to notice that each dream had specific things in common, and all seemed to be scattered pieces of a story. So he started recording them in a journal, in hopes that he could maybe put the pieces together and try to figure out exactly what that story was.

The one thing that really stood out to Klaus was a younger looking boy named Number Five. His voice always seemed to be louder and clearer the other’s and his face always seemed to look clearer and more life-like rather than fuzzy like most things in dreams often are. It was almost like he was trying to get something through to Klaus while trying to hurry the story along and make it understandable to everyone involved. He was like the main character. Or better yet, the narrator.

“Panic attack, breakdown, whatever,” Diego says. “I was concerned. I _am_ concerned.”

“I don’t care, you can’t just look through my shit like that, Diego. You have no right to,” Klaus says. “You gave up being that close to me when you left me here alone with dad.”

Diego sighs, holding back from pinching the bridge of his nose out of annoyance. "Look, it’s not my fault you didn’t leave,” Diego says, slapping the notepad down on the table in slight agitation. “I was trying to help you while simultaneously saving my own ass, Klaus. You can’t keep doing the finger pointing bullshit. I did the right thing by leaving. You should have done yourself the favor and left when things got bad again. You were a big boy just like me. You should have been able to do that for yourself."

“I was waiting for you to come back!” Klaus shouts. “You said you’d be back and I spent fifteen years of my life staring out the god damn window waiting for you to come and force me out of this hell hole! You never showed up! Don’t victimize yourself, Diego, because you have no fucking idea how awful things got because of you!"

"He says whilst victimizating himself and invalidating my trauma." Diego says with a scowl.

"That’s because I am the victim!" Klaus scrubs at both of his eyes with the heels of his hands in frustration and gives a bitter laugh thats void of any and all humor. He turns to shut the faucet off before pulling a chair out from around the table and plopping himself down in it. He gives a heavy sigh, "You really have to swoop in and play the hero now that the old man’s dead, don’t you? You couldn’t have done this years ago when I was being beat bloody?"

It’s the hero complex showing face. It’s just like how Diego would never report the pot-head kids at the school he was the janitor for. He couldn’t handle being seen as the bad guy, no matter who it was viewing him that way. He had to be the savior of the universe and the one person everyone went to for help. He wouldn’t be able to breathe having it any other way. That’s just the way Diego is. Trauma effects all people differently. This is Diego’s response.

“Klaus, I didn’t know that was happening. The last time I was here dad told me you were really sick and that I couldn’t see you because if you caught something off me you could die," Diego says, leaning back heavily against the doorway. "The time before that you didn’t say anything to me and I figured you were just pissed because I left without you. I see now that Dad was just trying to cover his own ass, not that you would have said anything with how manipulated you probably were.

"Just- I'm sorry, okay? I am. I feel like shit because of all you’ve been through. But it isn’t my fault and I’m not going to let you put the blame on me. That isn’t at all fair,” Diego pushes himself off the wall and sits in a chair across from Klaus at the table, staring at him with sincerity. "I’m here now. I have every intention of helping you get better. Which is why I’m giving you two options; either you come stay with me and get out of this house where everything bad happened to you and me both, or, I’m packing my shit and moving in here. Then we suffer through all of this together."  
Klaus groans, rubbing at his eyes with his palms. Maybe he should have just stayed in bed today and dealt with this tomorrow. "What is it that makes you think I’m incapable of taking care of myself here?"

"You-.... Klaus yesterday you told me you see ghosts. You said you’re scared of dad coming back to haunt you." Diego says.

"That’s because I do see ghosts. I’m a medium." Klaus says, frowning.

Diego gives him a soft look. "They’re not real, Klaus. Neither is The Umbrella Academy. You need help."

"What the fuck are you trying to say right now? That I’m crazy? Are you saying I’m insane?" Klaus asks defensively, scowling.

"Not crazy. I just think you’re sick and that it’s been neglected for a really long time." Diego says.

Klaus gives him a glare, feeling anger surge through him, "I’ve seen the dead since I was a kid, Diego. I’ve had the dreams and memories since I was a kid too."

"I know that, and schizophrenia can show up at any a-

"I am not schizophrenic, Diego!" Klaus shouts, rising from his chair.

"Klaus-

"No!" He yells, jaw feeling tight. "Get out."

"Please, just let me help-

"I am not moving in with you and you are not moving in with me! I am perfectly fine here on my own and I’m not fucking sick!" Klaus yells. He points in the direction of the door, hands feeling tingly. "Get out, Diego!"

And so, without saying another word, Diego does, stopping briefly in the in the living room to throw on his shoes. Klaus swallows and sits back down in the chair. His hands shake on the table in front of him.

 _I really shouldn’t have moved from the couch this morning_ , he thinks.

***

Three streets away from the mansion, a boy seemingly falls from the sky, landing harshly on the on the sidewalk next to an office building. People stop and stare, confused as to what the hell they just saw happen. He stands up, adjusting his tie and smoothing down his uniform.

"Next and hopefully last stop," He says quietly to himself, "Klaus and Diego."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so,,,, first of all thank you for reading. This story means a lot to me (as shitty as it is) and I really appreciate you guys. 
> 
> Also, Klaus’ trauma is heavily based on my own. Please keep in mind that everyone who has PTSD or any other kind of illness as a response to trauma (i have BPD. Thats fun.) experiences things differently. Dont say im writing trauma responses wrong or whatever please. Everyone is different. Dont invalidate mine and dont take this as me invalidating yours just because you experience things differently. Thank you. I hope everyones having a nice day/night. Stay safe. ♥️


	6. The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ☹️sad Klaus☹️
> 
> But also
> 
> 🤩Number Five🤩

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi looooowwww. This is rushed but the big thingy happenssss and im super excited about it.

_"Where is your brother?" Reginald spits from his seat at the end of kitchen table. Klaus says nothing, standing behind his chair across the table from Reginald. He twiddles his fingers, eyes downcast and dull. "He knows that he is to report to his seat at this table at seven O’clock sharp every morning. So where is he?"_

_Klaus shifts his weight from foot to foot, clasping his hands over his front. "He left last night." He says quietly.  
_

_"Speak up, boy!" Reginald shouts, slamming the butt of his butter knife down hard onto his placemat and making the plates and silverware on the table rattle.  
_

_Klaus bites back a flinch, swallowing thick in his throat before repeating himself, louder this time. "H-He left last night."_

_"He left?" Reginald asks. Klaus nods. "Left to go where?"_

_"I don’t know. He didn’t tell me." Klaus responds._

_"But he spoke to you, correct?"_

_"Yes." Klaus says._

_“And so I have every reason to believe that you helped him leave.” Reginald says, eyebrows raised._

_”No, I- I tried to stop him from leaving. I swear, Sir.” Klaus says. He suppresses his fear as best as he can, not knowing what kind of reaction he’d be getting from from his father and feeling vulnerable being alone in the house with him.  
_ _  
”Well, you clearly didn’t try hard enough,” Reginald states. Klaus stands still in his gaze, feeling as if his eyes are threatening to send daggers into his skull. His hands shake from where they’re clasped over his middle and his breaths are starting to get shallow. “I will contact the people I need to in order to get in touch with him by the end of the night. As for now, you will report back to your room and you will not come out until lunch at noon. I expect you to be copying down the next section in the dictionary. You should be on 'J' by now.”_ _  
_

_"But what about breakf-_ _  
_

_"I do not want to hear another word out of you until noon,” Reginald says. “Is that understood, boy?”_

_Klaus doesn’t respond, continuing to stand frozen in his father’s gaze. If Diego were here, he’d refuse to go to his room until he was given breakfast. He’d done it before. He sported a black eye for the following week. Diego’s disobedience never ended well. Maybe that’s why he left._

_”I asked you a question!” Reginald shouts, dull end of his knife slamming down onto his placemat again.  
_ _  
”Y-Yes, sir, I understand.” Klaus says, voice high-pitched and strained. Reginald gives a nod and Klaus turns around and heads back down the hallway to his room._ _  
_

_-_

  
Klaus is back on the couch again with his palms pressed over his ears and knees pulled up to his chest. After Diego left, it didn’t take long for the wave of panic to crash back over him. He’d tried to continue washing the dishes, but the second he pulled a plate from out of the sink, it slipped from his shaky fingers and smashed to the floor. He didn’t bother cleaning up the shards. It just felt like too large of a task.

He feels guilty. Diego didn’t deserve to be yelled at. He was only trying to help. And what was he supposed to think of the situation? Assuming Klaus has some kind of severe mental illness is the most logical way to go. I mean, it’s not every day you have to walk someone through a panic attack that they’re having because they see something that you can’t. He might not have even been too far off, considering how traumatized Klaus is. But he just couldn’t stop himself. He’s been so angry at Diego since the day he left and something about him deciding that now is the perfect time to swoop in and give his two cents just added to that rage.

Klaus has never been one to yell out of anger. It’s always made him feel like his father, which in turn made him feel guilty and panic. Panic, however, is something that very frequently led to yelling. He used to scream his lungs out during panic attacks. It used to stop the fighting back when his mom was alive. But after she passed and Reginald and Diego’s relationship got increasingly toxic, all it did was intensify the fights. They’d put blame on eachother for 'making the kid freak out’. Diego could never just bite his tongue and take what was given to him. He’d always been the rebellious type. Klaus has admired that about him since they were children.

Diego would always be by his side soon after the screaming started. They’d continue to fight for a few long moments, their voices getting louder to be heard above Klaus’ screaming. Diego would continue to yell and Reginald would scream and throw chairs and smash bottles and flip tables. But at some point in every fight, Diego would walk away and head directly to Klaus’ room to sit with him or hug him, depending on how bad the panic was. And Klaus was always comfortable with that. When they were little Diego never called him crazy for the things he saw. He was the one person Klaus could tell things to. Not that he saw many other people, outside of their father.

That’s why it was so shocking to hear Diego say what he said this morning. The only person who’d ever believed him turned around and did the same thing as everyone else and called it an illness. That hurt.

That’s why Klaus had yelled. He needed to get it out of him. Admittedly, it may have made the feeling worse because he had to watch his brother walk out again. But at least he was able to get his frustration across.

—

Hours pass and Klaus finds himself on his knees in the kitchen, collecting small white shards of glass in his palm from the plate he’d accidentally smashed earlier. It’s around three o’clock in the afternoon now, and the panic has subsided for the most part. A transparent figure of an older man, who has blood streaming down his face from his nostrils and tear ducts, is standing in the of the middle of the kitchen. He’s staring at Klaus with a blank expression. His presence is intimidating, yes, but he isn’t yelling. And to that, Klaus is beyond greatful.

Once he’s sure he’s gotten a majority of the bigger shards, Klaus gets back to his feet and tosses the pieces into the trash can. The idea that the trash hasn’t been taken out in months crosses his mind. It’s overflowing and a rolled up piece of paper would probably be enough to make the pile on the top fall over. It’s pretty comparable to the rest of the house. Reginald stopped caring about how the inside looked when the depression really sunk in. So it’s been a wreck for almost three years now.

If he’s truly set on staying in this piece of shit house, he’s got quite a bit of cleaning to do within it.

Klaus sighs and lifts the bag up, letting the can slide off of it and sit back on the floor. A peel from a banana he has no recollection of eating falls out of the bag and flops to the floor beside the can. He cringes, but ignores it, hands busying themselves by tying the blue handles on the sides of the bag together. He pulls the knot tight and picks the bag up, biting back the urge to gag when a putrid liquid drips from it’s bottom. He quickly carries it in the direction of the back doors, where the dumpster is.

The air is cold and inhaling it reminds Klaus of the times he had to sneak out because Reginald got too violent. Reginald was always loud and his fists always hit hard. Klaus got used to that. But there was a few times where knives came out and certain words fell from that man’s mouth that made Klaus know his life was on the line. More so than it was any other day. 

He remembers one night in particular where his father downed a full bottle of whiskey. Klaus asked about the bible and why they didn’t go to church. Reginald flipped. He said church is for the weaker links. The ones who aren’t truly dedicated to their life on earth and are constantly looking for one that’s bigger. Klaus accepted the response and tried to walk away, but Reginald built the situation up in his own head. In less than an hour, Klaus found himself shaking in the corner of an alleyway, a red ring around his throat and fingerpad-shaped bruises on his ams. 

Strangely enough, the following week he was slapped across the face for wearing one of his mother’s old dresses. Reginald said "God doesn’t approve of monstrosities like faggots."

Talk about irony. 

Just as Klaus tosses the trash bag into the dumpster, there’s a screeching of tires and a crash from the road on the opposite side of the house. Klaus frowns and rushes into the house through the back doors, thinking that maybe Diego rushed back over to admit that he was wrong and apologize. He makes his way to the front doors, opening them and stepping out onto the front step. 

The first thing he sees in a car crashed into a telephone pole across the street. There’s several people rushing towards it and shouting. Klaus can feel his hands shaking at the commotion already. But then theres a gentle popping noise and a quick flash of blue and in the middle of the road stands a boy. He adjusts the tie of his uniform and starts walking towards the mansion.

When the boy gets close enough for Klaus to get a good look at his face, his eyes widen. Something im him snaps.

Klaus lets out an audible gasp, feeling as if a wave had hit him, sending him stumbling backwards until his back is flush against the doors of the mansion. Then crystal clear memories, similar to the broken-up, fuzzy ones he’s had since he was little, flood his brain. Every moment. Every word. Missions. The academy. The mausoleum. The apocalypse. The funeral. The war. _Dave_.

His heart clenches almost painfully and he finds himself struggling to breathe. They’re not nothing more than dreams and nightmares anymore. They’re real. They’re real and that’s fucking terrifying.

The boy, Number Five, stops in front of him at the bottom of the steps, concern clear on his face. Klaus’ stomach twists in knots, the urge to scream slugging his weakened and run-down form in the gut with such a force it almost makes him double over and puke right then and there. He’s going to scream. _He’s going to scream._

And this time, unlike when he was greeted by an ignorant Diego at the funeral and the thousands of times he was forced to bite his tongue before that; he does.

It erupts from his mouth like bubbling, molten lava. It stings his throat and pulls every bit of air from his lungs. It grates like sandpaper against his vocal chords. It leaves him breathless, lungs and chest aching. His eyes squeeze tight.

Klaus drops to his knees, gasping, as the scream cuts off. His arms snake around his middle. He’s nauseous and his brain feels fuzzy. Everything feels fuzzy. This can’t really be happening, can it?

“Klaus?” Five asks, taking a step in his direction.

“No! Don’t touch me!” Klaus shouts through labored breaths. His shoulders shake. “Don’t- Don’t touch me.”

Five flinches back, hands hovering close to the panicked man in front of him. This is not the Klaus that Five had any memory of. This man is changed. He’s so changed that Five finds his own chest begging to become tight.

“Klaus?” Five hesitates this time, slowly crouching in front of his brother. He places a gentle hand on his shoulder, careful not to further startle him. “Do you know who I am?”

Klaus swallows, throat and mouth both dry. He opens his eyes to meet Five’s. He’s real. It’s all real. Klaus gives a small nod.

Five’s face remains blank, but his arms quickly pull Klaus into an embrace.

Klaus hugs back, hesitatant but meaningful. _He’s real. It’s all real_.

He’s not crazy. 

Reginald really is a lying piece of shit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEE YEEEEEEEEEE 
> 
> Thank you for reading. Feel free to leave feedback. <3


	7. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five and Klaus do some talkey talking. This mess gets explained (kinda). Reginald is a shitty parent. Lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Welcome back to cringe land. I didn’t have much of this chapter planned out, so,,, its pretty much slop. Hope you enjoy anyway. :)

Klaus stands outside of the mansion and stares at the crash across the street for longer than what’s probably necessary. As soon as he caught his breath, Five headed into the house, leaving him alone with his reeling mind. From the limited details of his new found memory, he remembers Five had never been one for conversation unless it was directly related to mathematics or saving the world or whatever. Klaus thinks he understands. His company would have been nice right now though.

Two firefighters pull a man from the crashed car and load him onto a stretcher that’s beside three EMTs. They’re rushing to check over his body and they seem hopeful. Klaus can’t help but feel hopeful along with them. But beside the car stands a transparent figure who’s bleeding from a cracked open skull. He starts pacing and yelling, trying desperately to get the people around him’s attention. Nobody even bats an eye at the ghost. They switch their hopeful and determined faces for solemn ones and load the man’s body into the back of the ambulance. His ghost starts to scream.

Klaus cringes and looks away, hands shaking at his sides. His brain feels divided now and it’s strange. His memories are starting to blend and he’s starting to forget which details belong to which story. Not that it really matters much. Both stories are equally awful and both of them are unfortunately very real. It doesn’t make much of a difference when it happened as long as he remembers that it did. Klaus sighs. Maybe it doesn’t matter what happens around him either. Maybe he’s damned to be the one who takes the brunt of the beating regardless. Klaus gives a sniffle and glances up as the ambulance pulls away, followed by two police cars and a fire truck. He turns around and slowly makes his way back into the house.

Five is in the kitchen, pouring water into the coffee machine. Klaus keeps his gaze on him heavy as he slowly lowers himself down into one of the chairs around the table, cringing at the way it’s creaks break the silence in the room. Five gives an annoyed huff and glances over the counter. "The house is filthy." He says.

Klaus pulls his gaze from off the boy, nervously fiddling with his hands. He clears his throat. "I- I know. I’ve been working on it. Kind of," He tells him. He lets the silence linger for a moment as Five starts opening cabinets and digging through drawers. Klaus clears his throat again, feeling awkward. "Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, uhm, what exactly are you doing here?"

“I need your help. We fucked up the timeline. Bad this time,” Five says after a moment, continuing to rummage through the kitchen. “You’re the only one who has even the slightest clue who I am.”

Klaus swallows hard, staring at his hands on the table. This is all moving way too fast. It makes his head spin. “How is that possible?” He asks. “How is any of this possible?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this right now,” Five starts. He pulls a mug from the closet over the sink and glances into it, cringing at the dirt that’s caked to the bottom. He steps towards the sink and turns the faucet on, taking the sponge and starting to scrub at the inside of the mug. “I don’t really know. I’ve theorized that maybe you all were thrown back to the day you were born, perhaps a little bit earlier than that, and retorted into those forms. However, taking into consideration that you remember things, there’s a very large chance that you landed into a body that was already born.”

“Have you talked to... everyone else? Like, our other siblings?” He asks.

“Mostly,” Five says with a quick nod. He dumps the dirty water from the cup back into the sink and replaces it by pouring in coffee from the pot on the counter. "I expected Diego to be around here somewhere. I haven’t been able to find him."

Klaus snickers and shakes his head. "Yeah, he’s not worth your time. I can assure you."

Five turns around to face Klaus, leaning back onto the counter with the coffee mug still in hand. For a second it reminds him of when Reginald would force him to sit at the table and listen to his lectures. Klaus remembers how he’d pace as the alcohol slowly sunk in and his tone got rougher and rougher. He blinks the memory away and trys to focus souly on Number Five, who is seeming to be processing Klaus’s words.

"So I take it the two of you have known eachother for a while." He says.

"Yeah," Klaus says. "Reginald adopted us both, unfortunately."

Five hums and takes a sip of his coffee. "I figured, considering you’re staying here." He says. "I gather you two aren’t on the best of terms then."

Klaus lets out a breath. "No, not really."

"I see," Five says. He nods slowly to himself and stares into the mug for a moment. "I’m guessing he’s still got a big mouth then, huh?”

Klaus sighs and nods. He really doesn’t want to talk about Diego right now. He’s scared it’ll make him panic or cry or something stupid like that again. He’d already cried in front of Five once today and he’d rather it not happen again. Especially not this soon.

"So, if you don’t mind me asking," Five starts. He sets his mug down gently on the table and pulls out a chair across from Klaus. The temptation to rush to the closet and grab a coaster for Five is strong. Reginald would often place his mug on the bare table to test Klaus. If he wasn’t quick to move, then came the screams. "What the Hell happened to you?"

"I- I’m sorry?" Klaus asks, eyebrows scrunching.

"You’re different. Quieter. Less of a prick," Five explains. He crosses one leg over the other in the chair, his gaze on Klaus heavy. "So, what happened in this life that caused such a drastic change in character?"

Klaus hesitates, avoiding eye contact. “Reginald happened, I guess."

"Obviously," Five says. He takes a sip of his coffee. "Reginald happened in the old timeline too."

Klaus swallows nervously, closing his eyes for a brief moment and taking a breath. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t-... it wasn’t the same as you probably remember.”

“Of course, because he failed this time around, right?” Five grips the mug tighter, observating the seemingly pained expression that had spread over Klaus' face. He presses his lips into a thin line. "Was it bad?”

Klaus’ shrugged response tells Five all he needs to know if not more. He frowns.

“I’m sorry, Klaus.” Five says, allowing a rare softness to coat his voice.

“It is what it is,” Klaus mumbles. “At least I’m not a useless junkie this time around.”

"Don't talk down on the past you like that," Five says, "Substance abuse or no substance abuse, I'm sure you have your vices in this life. Have empathy for yourself."

Klaus shrugs, "Yeah, yeah, whatever," He says, desperate for a topic change. "What do you think it was that changed the timeline to this extent?"

"My absence." Five replies, plainly.

Klaus raises an eyebrow at him. Talk about self confidence. "Don't take offense to this or anything like that, but, how does the absence of just you change the fate of the entire world? I mean, you’re just one person. Isn’t your being here kind of... insignificant?"

Five frowns at the question. It’s disheartening knowing his brother thinks that way. "No one is insignificant." He says softly.

Klaus nods awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Five holds his gaze on him. He has hope for his personality now that he has some memory of who he used to be. His attitude should be back to the one Five remembers soon enough. However it’ll take time. Meaning Five will have to get used to this Klaus. He’d most likely be stuck with him for a while.

"Uhm, so what are we going to do about this then?" Klaus asks, suddenly, drawling Five from his thoughts.

"Well, theres a few things we could try," Five says, "We could gather up the rest of us and go back to Oct-

"Why not just leave it how it is?" Klaus quickly interrupts. 

Five scowls at that, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you serious?”

Klaus shrugs.

“Wha- Why?!” 

Klaus shrugs again. “Everyone is probably doing much better than they were in the original timeline,” He explains. “Hell, Diego seems to be doing better than before. Even after being adopted be Reggie McDickhead. I don’t want to throw that all back and ruin it for them. It doesn’t seem right. They deserve to feel safe.” 

“The apocalypse is still going to happen if we don’t fix the timeline and put a stop to it,” Five says. “If you want to have a family therapy session when this is all over and done with then we can discuss that, but we need to get back to 2019 before the commission hunts us down. We need to do it fast.”

Klaus looks away in contemplation, folding his hands on the table. He’s not feeling like himself. Well, that might not be entirely true. He doesn’t feel like himself from now. Klaus doesn’t really remember how it felt to be himself in the past timeline. Maybe this is it.

"I just don’t want them to have to feel like this," Klaus says softly. "All this guilt and trauma. Plus everything I put poor Ben through. He doesn’t need to remember seeing me so... gross."

"But that’s the real them. That’s the real us," Five says. "Nobody here can stop the apocalypse. The world will end in eight days. As of right now, nobody in this timeline is capable of stopping it."

"But... There’s no Umbrella Academy here to _start_ it," Klaus says. "There’s nothing to end the world in this timeline. We don’t need anyone to stop the apocalypse if there’s no apocalypse."

"Incorrect," Five says. "Vanya's here. Vanya has the same powers as before. Vanya is the bomb, remember?"

 _No, not really_ Klaus wants to say.

"I can’t do a third shitty life, Five. I can’t. I’m sorry." He says instead

"And you won’t. My calculations are correct this time. I’m sure of it." Five tells him.

"But-

"Look, we need to do this! Just do as I tell you! Please!" Five shouts, starting to get frustrated. Klaus flinches, shoulders tensing and breath hitching in anticipation. This is how it always starts. He has to prepare for what’s coming his way. Five's face softens. "Sorry." He says quickly.  
  
Klaus takes a deep breath and shrugs, rising from his chair. He sheepishly clasps his still shaking hands together over his middle and looks down at the floor beneath his feet. "It’s fine," He says with a wavering voice. "I- I just need to get some air." 

Five nods and Klaus starts down the hallway. Five sighs. Everything is so damn different. He’s trying to get used to this Klaus. He really is. It’s just so difficult when he’s so, so changed. Every move Five makes feels like it has to be perfectly calculated in order to not scare his brother. It’s hard. He wasn’t expecting things to be this bad.

Five just wants his family back. It’s all he’s wanted since he was thirteen years old. Is that really that big of a wish?


	8. It’s not a Fashion Statement, It’s a Death Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lol. Gotta love dudes with briefcases and knives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ew God this is short.

Klaus sits on the curb out front of the mansion, taking slow, deep breaths of the cool air. The ghost of the man who died in the car crash is still pacing in circles and mumbling to himself across the street. Klaus knows better than to acknowledge him. Over the years, he’d learnt that once you make it known that you can see one ghost, more tend to flock. He’s really not in the mood for that right now.

In truth, Klaus is extremely embarrassed. Number Five came to him in search of help and all he’s been able to offer up is confusion and trauma responses. It’s beyond pathetic. Especially considering this is the one person who’s face has been in his head for years on end. This isn’t really the greatest first impression. Well, first impression of himself from this timeline, anyway.

Klaus looks to his right and sees a man strolling his way down the sidewalk. He’s holding tight to the handle of a knife with one hand and the other is tucked into his pocket. He has a dead look in his eyes and his gaze is focused harshly on Klaus. His grip on the knife gets tighter the closer he gets.

The ghost across the street turns to stare the scene and Klaus feels his stomach drop. He jumps to his feet and starts to run in the direction of the front door, but he’s stopped by an arm wrapping itself around his throat. The man gets close to Klaus’ ear and whispers, "Tell Number Five the misses needs to speak to him."

Then there’s something being stabbed into his midsection and the man disappears in a flash of blue.

_Jesus Christ, what a fucking day._

***

Five is waiting by the front door when it opens. The way Klaus had just up and left. Especially taking his habits from the past timeline into consideration. He didn’t deny having vices in this life. That being said, Five expected his brother to come back through the door in a somewhat altered condition compared to how he’d left. However, he was not expecting him to stumble in bloody.

"Shit, Klaus!” Five drops down to his knees beside where he’d collapsed on the floor. His hands hover over his brother’s body, unsure of where they’re needed. “It hasn’t even been twenty minutes. What the fuck happened?”

Hell if Klaus knew. He gives no more than a cough as a response. His ears are ringing and he’s not sure of how long he can hang onto consciousness. The familiar face of Dave faintly runs through his mind. Is this how he felt?

“Klaus!” Five snaps. His eyelids are heavy. He isn’t sure he remembers closing them. Reluctantly, he squints at Five. The academy lights are far too bright all of a sudden. “You need to stay awake. If you don’t keep your God damn eyes open you’re going to die. I’m not losing you. Not again.”

“Relax, I’m fine.” Klaus mumbles.

Five brushes the comment off, pressing his palms against an area where the blood seems to be more prominent. “Who did this?”

Klaus grimaces and gives a pained hiss but doesn’t complain. “I dont know. Some dude with a suitcase.”

_The commission._

Five feels his jaw tighten. This is earlier than he’d expected. And they’d gone directly to attacking someone close to Five, aka Klaus, rather than trying to reason with him first. He sighs, pushing down his anxiety and anger and forcing himself to focus in on his brother.

“Did he shoot you?” He asks.

“No,” Klaus mumbles back. “I don’t think so. It felt like a knife, so, I’m assuming he stabbed me.”

He’d find out soon enough then. Five takes both of Klaus’ hands and pushes them tight against the wound, replacing his own. Klaus bites back a shout, breath hitching in his throat and head slamming back on the floor. He squeezes his eyes shut. Five frowns, tapping his cheek far more gently than Klaus had ever expected Five of all people to be. “Keep pressure for me, please.”

Klaus hums a strained response that comes out as more of a pained whimper, ears barely registering the sound of Five’s blinking noise. He feels cold. Which, to the best of his knowledge, isn’t a good thing. This wasn’t his intention. He just needed air. Why do things always have to be so complicated?

He doesn’t know how much time passes before a soft pop draws him back to semi-consciousness. He’s kind of surprised that Five made it back before he bled to death. He hadn’t gotten the chance to explain how the new layout of the house.

Five curses under his breath, “I said to keep pressure, Klaus.” He hisses. 

_Oh... He must have forgotten._

Klaus feels his shirt being peeled up and something hot being pressed against his abdomen. He thinks he’s screaming but he doesn’t know. Gentle fingers are being run through his curls. It’s weird, because through the fuzzy memories he can’t seem to remember a time where anyone from that timeline was this gentle and caring.

“Breathe,” a muffled voice says. It sounds miles away yet right next to him at the same time. He barely recognizes it as Five’s. Things like this really make him wish he had Ben with him in this life. His breaths come in ragged gasps and the world around him starts to fade to black.

When Klaus wakes up he’s shirtless and in his own bed. The heat is gone (thank fucking Christ) and something cool is being gently wiped around his stomach. Klaus groans, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He goes to sit up but is stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Stay down, you moron." Five grumbles, pushing him back.

Klaus blinks a few times, trying to get the tired blur to clear from his eyes. "What happened?" He asks with a hoarse voice.

"You were stabbed." Five replies. His hands continue to move what he now recognizes as a blue washcloth thats dampened with cool water from a small bucket beside the bed around his abdomen.

Klaus snickers, "Well, yeah, no shit."

Five sighs, not bothering to look up at his brother’s face. "I believe it was a commission agent."

Klaus raises an eyebrow, still trying to blink the blur from his eyes. "Commission?"

"Yes. My former employer." Five replies, flatly.

Klaus doesn’t get it, but nods anyway. He remembers Five saying something about the commission earlier today. He didn’t ask for an elaboration because there were bigger questions on his mind. The blanks are starting to fill in little by little and he’s starting to remember more as the minutes pass, however it’s still a lot of information to process at one time.

Five drops the damp cloth into the bucket and begins to dab a dry one around the wound. "And they sent someone to stab me because... ?"

"You’re the closest current link to me there is," Five says. "This was a warning. We have to move locations and start planning as soon as possible."

"Planning?"

Five takes a piece of gauze from the med kit he has resting over his lap and sets it over Klaus’s wound, free hand reaching for the medical tape in the process. "How we’re gonna get back to the old 2019," He says. He tapes the gauze down and looks up to meet Klaus’ eyes. "Did the person who did this say anything to you?"

Klaus’ brow creases in thought, "I think he said something about someone needing to talk to you or something." He says.

Five nods, closing the latches on the med kit. "As expected. We need to leave as soon as possible," He says. Five slides off the bed and rolls the sleeves of his uniform coat down. "Get some rest. I’ll pack your stuff and wake you in a few hours."

"Five hold on a second, we’re going too fast and I don’t really want you going through my th-

"Why? Do you have drugs hidden somewhere?" Five asks.

"No." Klaus replies, quickly.

"Then don’t worry about it. Rest. I’ll wake you up in a few hours. Mobility will probably be hard for a while, so I’m trying to make it so all you need to do is get in the car." Five says.

Klaus can tell he’s really putting real effort into keeping his voice gentle. He appreciates it, however he also can’t help but feel like a burden. It’s only been a few hours since Five got here and he’s already had to save his life and change his entire demeanor in order to not scare Klaus off.

"Okay." Klaus says, softly.

Five gives him a nod and leaves the room, med kit in hand, leaving Klaus by himself to nod off back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Riordan doesn’t know how to end chapters. 
> 
> Anywhom there’s 2-4 chapters left of this so I made the total amount 11. It’s not a definite total amount and I’ll change it if I need to. 
> 
> Thanks for reading !! All feedback is appreciated. I dont really respond to comments but I promise I do read them lol. Follow my socials if you want (@indieklaus on twitter and @tragicwithacapitalt_ as well as @Klausymemez on Instagram)


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